


The College Porter

by essexgrl68



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essexgrl68/pseuds/essexgrl68
Summary: Music:  Blur:  Bang, Inertia, Come Together (no jokes, please)I dunno, this one was born simply out of drabbles induced by bike riding.  When I get into a zone and my mind tunes out, it defaults to gramon.  And there aren’t enough college fics.  Yes, the Forster is in there.  I will never give up my devotion to E. Morgan.  “They slept separately at first, as if proximity harassed them, but towards morning a movement began, and they woke deep in each other’s arms.”  Maurice, p. 182  Oh, visual reference?  The U.S. version of “There’s No Other Way.”





	The College Porter

The College Porter Goldsmiths College, London, May 1988

“He’s in love with you.” Said nonchalantly, while soft hands passed through his blond hair, in Damon’s habitual gesture, trying to cover the distinctive widow’s peak on the crown of his head. It was past midnight. Alex had just left, reluctantly, after the three of them had finished off the wine and lager and talked music and college gossip for a while. There had been a tension in the small dorm room, Damon not familiar with the names and politics being discussed, Alex too aware of the physical sparks between the old friends. 

“Oh shuddup, it doesn’t matter. I’m not in love with him...he’s a good mate, he’s smart, he’s funny, he loves music...but I LIKE him. He’s a friend. That’s all. S’not like you to be jealous, Dames!” Graham’s fingers fled to his mouth and he chewed on his nails, big brown eyes pleading with his friend. 

“Singing Edith Piaf to you...and he’s beautiful. Have you drawn him?” Damon’s blue eyes were huge and unusually vulnerable. Crickey, how long was he in the hallway? He’s tired, Graham thought. He’s feeling out of place here. No wonder he was so out of sorts at first.

“Couple of drawings, c’mon, that jawline. It’s almost a lesson in geometry. Stop it, Damon. I missed you so much, c’mere.” Graham pulled Damon closer to him on the bed, knowing that the physical contact would soothe the other boy. “I don’t have a whole sketchbook full of Alex, like I do of you.” He nuzzled his face into Damon’s neck, cuddling into him, letting his chin rest on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?” 

Damon shook his head and finally chuckled. “I should ask YOU that, you’re so thin, Hazel would be beside herself. Nah, I’m a bit tired, with one thing and another - just want to sleep, awright?” Graham brought one hand up to the tanned neck and pushed his long fingers through the thick blond hair, turning Damon’s face to him and gazing into those incredible eyes. “Kiss? Please? That’s all, then we can sleep. But strip off first, yeah?” Damon grinned. “Sometimes I think you’d be perfectly happy with just kissing me.” He leaned into Graham, tip of his tongue tracing his lips, then parting them and letting Graham’s tongue meet his, just long enough to indulge his need without inspiring too much hunger. Graham began his involuntary humming as their mouths met, one hand pressing on Damon’s spine, considering drawing this out...but he pulled back and enjoyed watching Damon blink sleepily at him, beautiful wide mouth rosy and wet. It was true. Sometimes kissing Damon was like indulging in a security blanket, more for coziness than for inducing lust.

How he’d missed the taste of that mouth over the months they’d been apart: smoke and apples, and right now, bitter from the lager. He’d longed for all the flavours of Damon that he’d learned over the past few years. Graham often thought of the first time he’d given in to the overwhelming temptation to taste that caramelly coloured skin, on a summer afternoon when they’d sprawled in their bathing shorts on a blanket next to the river after drinking a bottle and a half of homemade wine that Damon had hidden in the water. Damon had pinned him playfully on the blanket, giggling madly, murmuring idiotic, irresistible endearments born out of the drink, Graham was sure. Damon had smacked their lips together for too brief a moment and had then tumbled beside Graham, still laughing, hands behind his head, and the sun quickly lulled him and he fell heavily into sleep. 

Graham lay frozen beside him for about ten minutes, trying to will the desire roiling deep in his belly to subside. He failed. The boy was too beautiful: blond hair a halo around that perfect face, a few ragged strands strewn across his forehead. His pink lips were slightly parted in deep slumber, slender body given up to his sleep. The amber sunlight picked out the gold in his hair and glittered off the new earring in the lobe of his left ear. There were thrushes rustling and twittering to each other in the brambles behind them. You’re infuriating, Graham thought. And you make me so bloody happy. Graham’s hand trembled fiercely as it hovered over Damon’s chest, and he allowed himself the lightest of touches along the smooth collarbone, and the slight bump in the round shoulder. Damon didn’t move. Graham turned onto his side, laying his arm carefully over his friend’s chest, and snuggled close to him, a contented sigh coming from both of them. 

Graham tucked his face into the crook of Damon’s shoulder, feeling sleepiness overtake him, thankfully. Just before he gave in to it, though, he cautiously opened his lips to kiss the tawny neck, touching just the tip of his tongue to the warm skin. Scent and taste merged: boy-sweat, green grass, a hint of Hazel’s kitchen, and something ineffable that was just Damon. They woke wrapped around one another, lazily stroking each other’s hair, and from that day sleepovers were spent in the same bed, at first just for comfort. Later, Graham would discover the musky taste of Damon’s belly, of the strip of smooth silk between Damon’s hip and groin. Not too long after that he would savour the essence of the boy, salty-sweet creamy maleness on his tongue, Damon’s hands wrapped in his hair, that beautiful face twisted in pleasure. 

“Leave the light on for a minute. I want to see you,” Graham requested, as he himself undressed. They’d agreed long ago to not hedge around what they wanted of one another physically. It gave a welcome clarity to this part of their friendship. Once they’d navigated the understandable confusion and fear when they first discovered their mutual desire as teenagers, it was easy. Natural. And such a pleasure to give in to the cravings their bodies had for each other. But right now it was simply a lovely prelude to sleep, watching Damon unbuckle the wide belt, step out of the jeans and slip the jersey off his slim torso. He left the clothes in a heap next to the neatly made bed, Graham lifting the bedclothes to let Damon slide in beside him. ‘You’re warm. You’re always warm,” he murmured to his friend. He turned so that he could press himself into Damon’s back and stroke the boy’s lightly furred belly, burying his face into the back of Damon’s head and inhaling the scent of his hair. Damon was already almost asleep. It took only a few minutes until their breathing synced and the bedsprings creaked slightly as they settled in.

Graham’s room faced southeast and it was mid-morning before the sun made its way through the small window, but it wasn’t its rays that woke the boys. Pre-waking restlessness had turned them face to face, legs wrapped round each other, sharing each other’s breath. Graham woke first and giggled softly, his erection nudging up against Damon’s belly. He slid his hips back and forth slowly, smile widening on his face. Enough of the snuggling. He’d waited a long time. But no need to rush on this Saturday morning. Not like the early mornings in Colchester, their frantic fumblings in his narrow bed, pyjama bottoms pulled down but not off, twisting and bucking against each other, kissing madly, even resorting to biting at one another’s hair and shoulders to stifle their groans, panting and gasping in each other’s arms afterwards. Graham would readjust his pyjamas and creep down the hall to the bath for a warm flannel to wash off first his, then Damon’s belly, Damon grinning devilishly at him as he ministered to him.

Damon moaned softly, still half-asleep, his own cock responding to Graham’s gentle rubbing. Graham stroked his face. “You’re beautiful. I love to watch your face in the morning light.” “Romantic sop, your prick is saying simply that you want to fuck. Someday I’m gonna get a tattoo in that spot, it always ends up right there...ummmm Gra. I love to watch your face when I make you cum.” “Kiss me.” Damon slid onto his friend and laid fully on top of him, arms under Graham’s shoulders, bringing his hands up into the dark tousled hair and deeply kissing him, their hips pressing, then Damon starting a slow, steady rhythm. Graham’s voice came in gasps, whimpers, moans. Damon straddled him, up on his elbows, Graham’s eyes wide as he gazed between their bodies at what his lover was doing. God, he was exquisite. Raised just a few inches above Graham, deliberately sliding just his cock over Graham’s over and over again, letting Graham watch the play of muscles in his arms and chest and stomach and thighs as he balanced above him. Damon could be clumsy sometimes, but not while making love, this was like a carnal ballet. Graham wished his drawings did it justice. 

Damon watched Graham’s face as the familiar flush crept up from his chest and neck, his brown eyes huge, teeth grabbing at his bottom lip. “Fuck, Dames, stop...oh fuck!” Graham pulled him down into another kiss, their bodies collapsing together, slick with sweat and pre-cum. “I wanna, please, Damon…” Graham shifted on the narrow bed, turning and presenting the slope of his back to his lover. “Do you have…? Please, I want you inside me.” Damon was momentarily stunned and then grinned hugely; this was an unexpected surprise. He reached down beside the bed and grabbed for his jeans. There had been more than a necklace for Graham in the baggy pants; Damon uncapped the tube and warmed the liquid in his hand. His other hand stroked firmly but gently down Graham’s back, relaxing the whining boy. “Hun, shush, shush, no rush. God, I love you.” He leaned over to lap at the sweat on Graham’s neck, turning his head to reach his mouth for another long kiss, letting his cock slide back and forth between Graham’s cheeks, teasing, his hand reaching under Graham’s belly to stroke at his weeping cock. Graham arched against him, “Dames, please!” Damon let the warmed liquid drip down his fingers and gently reached inside his lover. “God, pet, you’re ready, shhhh, let me….” He groaned deeply as he slid himself inside, holding back from movement as he heard Graham gasp, waiting until the boy moved himself toward him. Damon shuddered, keeping himself to slow fluid thrusts. “I. Love. You.” Chanted over and over, Graham’s sweet high voice making it almost a song. Damon felt the familiar rush to his head, the best high of all, as he waited for Graham to lose control. It was beyond intoxicating to know how he could make this shy boy come undone, his lust making him almost speak in tongues. “GoddammitDamondon’tstopdon’tfuckingstopgodIloveyourcockfuck...soclose...Dames!” Damon felt Graham swell in his hand and let his thumb rub over the tip of his cock, then the hot wetness in his hand and the grip around him inside, Graham crying out and turning his head, searching for Damon’s mouth. His own moan was lost in the kiss and he gripped Graham’s hips as he ground fiercely one more time into his lover. 

A stunned stillness, for a moment, then Damon turned Graham to face him and lavished his face with kisses, their limbs wrapping together, wriggling like a pair of happy puppies, drunk with affection. ‘I think I bruised you, I’m sorry, luv.” Damon gently touched at Graham’s back. “Good, I wanted you to mark me. I’m yours, you know.” Damon frowned and looked at him with concern. “Is this...is this about me being an idiot last night? Aw, Grem, I don’t own you. Don’t be daft.” Graham smiled and nuzzled at his neck. “That’s alright, I know, but I don’t mind being yours.” He stretched and kicked the bedclothes off them, letting their bodies cool in the morning air. “Too bad this isn’t an Oxbridge college, I’d ring the porter. I’m dying for a cuppa.” Damon laughed and ruffled his hair. “We’d have been called down for what we just did, y’know.” “Worth it.” Graham sat up and reached for his jeans on the bedside chair. “I’ll go fetch us some tea, and I’ll knock up Al, yeah? Tidy up a bit, OK?” Damon nodded and blew him a kiss.

The mention of his name made Alex start back hastily from the door, where he’d been frozen for almost the last half hour, head swirling with images, ears filled with the most gorgeously pornographic sounds he could imagine. He stumbled back, his erection making him move clumsily at first, but his natural grace took over and he made it around the bend in the hallway before Graham’s door opened. He hoped Graham was going to head for the kitchen first. He needed a few minutes to collect himself. 

http://www.theguardian.com/money/2011/nov/04/working-life-university-porter-cambridge  
Just for interest’s sake.


End file.
